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Neville sent servants scurrying through the castle to inquire regarding the whereabouts of Lady Alinor's messenger. Whether they found him or not was not important. It was the excuse he needed for having left the king's presence. |
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Temporarily bereft of something that would scream when violence was done to it, John looked for something that would crush, break. The table before him was clear of all such objects. All that lay on it at the moment were the scattered parchments. He snatched up Alinor's letter again, but he did not cast it into the fire. His rage and frustration were such that he froze with the document in his hand, leaning forward against the table. The pressure across his loins vividly recalled all the pain and shame inflicted upon him by the author of the letter he held in his hand. |
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The memory did not spark another bout of rage. It was so vivid that John reacted as if the paroxysm he had suffered 14 years past had just taken place. His chest heaved and his legs felt oddly shaky. He sank back into the chair he had risen from, staring blindly and fixedly at the parchment he held. |
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"Mealymouthed bitch," he muttered as he reread the letter carefully. Nonetheless, the submissive tone calmed him further, and he began to think. "Three bishops," he said next. ''Much good that may do you. As soon as John Gray is consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury, they can be brought to heel." |
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But that was not important. John had no intention of annuling Alinor's marriage in so peaceful a fashion. He dropped Alinor's letter and took up Ian's. His expression darkened again. Here was no submission. John had a quick vision of the man who towered over him in height, of the proudly held dark head, the contempt that sometimes flashed across the handsome face, curling the beautiful lips into an unaccustomed sneer. No, the annulment of de Vipont's marriage would not take place tamely through the church. As John began to contem- |
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